


Family Dinner

by Agents_R_Us



Series: Morse Code: A Year [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Family Dinners, Family Fluff, In-Laws, Mild Language, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agents_R_Us/pseuds/Agents_R_Us
Summary: Friday family dinners in the May home are a monthly affair. According to Daisy, when she was younger it was mandatory for everyone, but that had changed as they’d gotten older and developed their own lives. Still, most of the family comes by when they can, and they’re never less than eight or ten. And, whatever the circumstances, their home is always open. They all know about May’s (rather unique) hiding spots, so if it’s late and they don’t want to wake anyone they can open the door. The foster parents always have the downstairs bedroom ready, or one of the rooms upstairs, if Gabe’s home.Bobbi’s never had to take them up on that offer, but knowing those beds exist is comforting, even when she knows anything she did to get herself kicked out of their apartment would also likely ban her from May’s house.





	Family Dinner

Bobbi rings the doorbell with a shaky finger, listening to Daisy jump up the stairs behind her.

“How do you _still_ get nervous?” Daisy teases, coming up behind her. She’s holding a bottle of wine, shuffling her feet because it’s colder than she’s ever been able to handle. “It’s just a family dinner.”

“No offense, babe, but your family is terrifying.”

Smirking, Daisy takes her wife’s hand. “You forgot huge. Huge _and_ terrifying.”

Even if Bobbi could think of a retort, she wouldn’t get to answer. A man in his early fifties opens the door just as she’s about to open her mouth.

Coulson’s wearing a blue plaid shirt, red suspenders, and an embroidered red bowtie. It’s a decidedly odd ensemble, though not so outlandish compared to his usual garb. _Teacher by day, fanboy by night,_ just like Daisy had first described him to her, back when they were living across the country Bobbi only knew of her extended family through word of mouth (even then, most of the stories came from Trip).

“Hi, dad,” Daisy says. She jumps inside and wraps him in a tight hug: the way she greets most people she can tolerate. “Eleventh doctor?”

“With a plaid shirt? And no jacket? Try again.”

Daisy disappears inside. Her father nods to Bobbi, who is still standing two feet away on the porch.

“Hey, Bobs. How are you?”

“Good, sir. And you?” She finds herself trying like hell not to stutter, even though she kicked that as a kid.

Coulson smiles apologetically, kind as always, and nods if he appreciates her existence, or at least her attempt. Bobbi takes that as a good sign, thinking it’s no wonder he became a teacher. Coulson’s always come off like a person who inspires confidence.

“Good. And call me Phil. Or Coulson, at least. Everyone else seems to.” Shrugging, as if to say ‘I don’t get it either,’ he waves her in.

Past the main hallway is the bathroom and a long dining room—specially extended back in the early 2000s to accommodate everyone in their family—but before that is a long row of hooks. Bobbi's always stopped to study those; it’s the best way to gouge the number of people visiting. Today, it’s already filled with various winter apparel, so she knows nearly everyone’s already here.

There’s a staircase on the left and three doors (living room and kitchen on the right, a bedroom which used to be Gabe’s on the left). The walls are dark red in the hallway, light blue in Gabe’s room, and cream in the dining room. That kind of miss-match shouldn’t work, but it does in the way that no one cares what “works” in May’s house.

“May I take your coat?”

Bobbi hands Coulson her brown leather jacket, already wiping beads of sweat from her palms.

He gives her a once-over before nodding at her _Star Wars_ t-shirt approvingly. “Nice. Amazon?”

She swallows thickly. “Walmart.”

Coulson nods again in his slow, content way. Bobbi thinks it must be evident that she’s about to be sick all over his oak wood floors because he backs off suddenly and points her to the living room.

“They’re just waiting for May to get home,” he says apologetically. “Meeting ran late.”

Bobbi nods, again appreciating his kindness.

“How was the Caribbean?”

There’s definitely a mocking look in Coulson’s eyes. “Warm. May liked it, though.”

Bobbi can’t tell if he’s joking or not. May is the CEO of a company that sells exercise equipment, which has just absorbed another, smaller organization. Looking at her, a tiny, Chinese lady always in yoga pants and joggers, you’d hardly think she employed half a million people worldwide.

 _Which is more than kind of messed-up,_ thinks Bobbi as she steps into the other room.

Her first thought it _purple_. From the walls to the paintings to the pillows, the room’s covered in it. The only deviants are white accents, the same dark wood floors as the hallway, and the furniture. When Bobbi enters, Fitz’s face matches the walls.

The Scotsman, sitting stock-still, wedged between Mack and Elena on the pleather couch, is getting picked on by his adoptive sisters for some grievous mistake. Piper, hovering over him, is nearly doubled over in laughter. Simmons is behind the couch, blowing on her fingers and looking mildly distressed. Daisy is laughing the hardest, sunk into a puddle on the ground in front of a puffy armchair, hand clasped tightly over her mouth and shoulders shaking violently.

“B-Bobbi,” she gasps.

The blonde grins. “Hey, babe.”

“Not _fair_.” Bobbi doesn’t know how she manages to wine and laugh at the same time. Could be practice; could be natural talent; could be both.

Piper shakes her head and flops down on the recliner. Daisy immediately starts playing with her sister’s shoelaces.

“Why do you both keep saying that?”

Bobbi locks eyes with her wife. “Healthy competition,” they say in unison.

“It’s a bet,” Elena jumps in, gesticulating with her wine. The red liquid starts sloshing around her glass and for a second Bobbi thinks it’s going to spill, but the historian is practiced enough to stop that from happening. Elena smiles at the worried look on her face, more amused than anything.

“On what?” Piper asks.

Mack rolls his eyes. “No one knows.”

“Daisy’s winning,” Jemma pipes up.

“…except for Jemma,” he amends.

“I’m the one in charge. They tell me their numbers. Right now it’s eleven to sixteen. Daisy’s winning,” she rattles off.

“And are there rules?”

“Yes, but you can’t know them. That’s very important. It could affect the competition.” She smiles, teasing them.

“What’s the winner get?” asks a voice from behind.

In the doorframe is Hill, who asked the question, and Hand, who has two red streaks worked through her hair and looks like the devil in a suit. They wear matching rings and stern expressions.

Bobbi meets Daisy’s eyes once again, this time aware that neither knows the complete answer. They’d designed it that way.

Jemma fills in the gaps for the older women, again evading concrete answers for explanations as to why they can’t know them. It’s so convoluted that Bobbi doesn’t even realize Daisy’s gone until she’s finished.

The blonde takes her wife’s spot on the floor next to Piper. Someone’s knotted her rainbow shoelaces together; Bobbi rights them without her noticing. The conversation moves to work, to May, then to Peter. The new baby of the family is out with his friends/significant others, possibly at the library or a movie theater.

“We should add it to the group chat,” Fitz quips. “People are going to be asking all night.”

“Speaking of, anyone know where May is?” Piper asks. They shake their heads.

“Trip and Robbie are coming late, and I haven’t heard back from Lance,” Bobbi tells them.

“Gabe’s got a date,” Hand adds. “Nice girl. She took my class last year.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t traumatize her. Does the poor girl know she’s dating into the family?” asks Hill.

Hand shrugs and looks around. “Where’s the baby?” she asks Bobbi.

The blonde holds back a sigh, suddenly feeling like the paragon of an uncomfortable in-law. Even though Daisy is older than two of her siblings, everyone refers to her as the “baby”—save Peter, the actual kid.

“She was going to the kitchen,” Jemma tells them. She’s blowing on her fingers again, but no one else shares her sympathies. It’s been years, and time has suppressed their worry.

Still, there is a moment of quiet before someone changes the subject. Bobbi lets their conversations wash over her in waves, but she doesn’t comprehend what they’re staying.

She wonders where she would be right now if she didn’t have Daisy. Playing video games with Lincoln and arguing with Lance could only get her so far, and anyway, Lance would have been here, too, and Lincoln was working.

Alone, then. Bobbi sighs, refusing to consider one of the alternatives. They’re all shit, anyway.

The doorbell rings. Somehow, though Bobbi is the first to get up, she is not the first to the door. Truthfully, the blonde should have known better than to try; May isn’t here yet, and her kids would want to be the first to get to her.

Mack, Fitz, Daisy, and Piper are all racing down the hallway to the front door within a matter of seconds. Hand, Hill, Elena, and Bobbi watch from the doorframe.

At first, Daisy has the most significant disadvantage. Coming from the kitchen instead of the living room, she lags a few paces. Then come Fitz, Mack, and Piper, who is in the lead by a few crucial milliseconds.

But they’re surrounded by hooks, coats, and shoes, and Mack is slowly gaining on Piper. When she tries to block him by kicking some boots out of the way, she trips, and all three jump over her like it’s Mario Cart.

The next one to try sabotage is Mack, as Fitz starts to gain on him. This time it is jackets. But, before he can deal any damage, Mack steps on the long arm of his own coat and falls with a crash. The row of hooks he’d been holding comes down with him as the doorbell rings again.

Fitz, now in the lead, goes the direct route, side-stepping his boyfriend’s arms and pondering over mountains of fabric while Daisy leaps over Mack’s expansive back and wins the day.

All of this happens in maybe fifteen seconds before Daisy’s thrown open the door and trapped May in a fierce hug, grinning despite the cold (which, at this point, even Bobbi can feel).

The older woman pats her back once, twice, then holds her daughter at arm’s length as if assessing the damage. To May, it’s all old hat; the same happens to the hallway behind her.

“What the hell,” she says clearly, taking in Mack and Piper on the floor, Bobbi and the rest in the doorway, and Fitz leaning on a pile of overturned coats. There’s a long white line on the wall where the hooks used to be, punctuated with a hole on either side where there were nails.

“Okay. Mack, Piper, Fitz, pick up the jackets. Daisy, get the screwdrivers. Bobbi, Elena, set the table. I’ll go tell Coulson you’re not all dead.”

As May stomps past them, shaking her head, everyone jumps into action.

“It’s crazy, how she does that,” Elena whispers to her, part awe and part dissent.

Though she’s too thunderstruck to voice it, Bobbi wholeheartedly agrees.

They make small talk while they set the table. There’s a new exhibit Elena’s been tasked with restoring at the museum (circa World War One) that she’s particularly excited about. Then Bobbi tells her about a clinical trial from last year and the paper that’s to be published with her name on it.

Without Peter and Gabe, they should be a party of 16. The table, built custom six years ago, almost doesn’t fit in the room, but they still only barely manage to get enough chairs around it.

Friday family dinners in the May home are a monthly affair. According to Daisy, when she was younger it was mandatory for everyone, but that had changed as they’d gotten older and developed their own lives. Still, most of the family comes by when they can, and they’re never less than eight or ten. And, whatever the circumstances, their home is always open. They all know about May’s (rather unique) hiding spots, so if it’s late and they don’t want to wake anyone they can open the door. The foster parents always have the downstairs bedroom ready, or one of the rooms upstairs, if Gabe’s home.

Bobbi’s never had to take them up on that offer, but knowing those beds exist is comforting, even when she knows anything she did to get herself kicked out of their apartment would also likely ban her from May’s house.

As they’re finishing, May walks by to appraise their work. She’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt, somehow managing to dwarf even Bobbi’s stature with her presence alone. It’s not until the Asian woman is standing right next to them that Bobbi realizes she’s shorter than all her daughters, and that realization is so odd to her the blonde’s not sure she can trust her eyes.

“Nice work,” she says.

Bobbi’s mildly confused by the sentiment (May, under usual circumstances, does _not_ freely give praise for something as perfunctory as setting the table), but she doesn’t have time to think it over.

Daisy’s returned from re-hanging the jackets, immediately making a bee-line to Elena and her mother for hugs. Then her attention shifts immediately to Bobbi, whose neck she briefly attempts to wrap her arms around. After a few seconds, she gives up due to the older woman’s height and flops down on a chair.

May gives her daughter another two-second appraisal, and Bobbi follows her eyes. Daisy’s wearing a white flower-print dress, her black leather jacket, and a pair of Chucks. Her bangs are growing out and frame either side of her face lightly, in a way that you’d only notice if you’re looking for them. She’s smiling, and has started talking to Elena animatedly about that new exhibit. It’s already apparent she knows more about it than Bobbi did.

It takes the doctor an extra second to realize she’s now outwardly staring at her wife, then another to process whatever May said to her in the meantime. (“Wha—oh, yeah, of course I’ll help.”)

As they’re leaving, Elena says something in Spanish then that makes Daisy laugh. Bobbi recognizes briefly that they’re staring at her before she’s pulled into the kitchen by May, but she—again—doesn’t have time to dwell. It’s like that, in this house.

It takes them each three trips, plus Coulson’s help, to bring out the food, solely because there has to be one of each side for either end of the table and considerations for May and Elena, the vegetarians, and Simmons, who only eats certain foods. Bobbi can’t complain; Coulson’s a good cook, and she’s already watering at the mouth.

By the time they bring out the bread, everyone else is sitting. The table’s arranged with Coulson at one end and May at the other, the rest of them falling into a rowdy mess between them. Daisy and Bobbi sit opposite each other, both next to May, and Trip and Robbie will eventually be taking the seats next to them. Then it’s Fury and Piper, Lance and Garner, Hand and Maria, Elena and Mack, and Simmons and Fitz.

No one says anything, but they all start reaching for dishes at the same time. May shoots Coulson a _Look_ , but he doesn’t do anything to stop them, nor would he have been able to. Nothing good would come to the man who tore Maria Hill away from her dinner.

A few conversations break out across the table as everyone starts eating. Bobbi doesn’t engage in any herself, she listens. Daisy and May are discussing a Tv show in Mandarin, Piper and Maria are talking (across Garner) about soccer in Spanish, and the rest of them are either on cooking or football in English.

It’s a motley family but, as far as Bobbi knows, they’ve only ever lost one member (although, in his case, it wasn’t “lost” as much as “were fucked over by”. The cunt.).

The doorbell rings a few minutes in, but this time Bobbi’s the only one to stand. Trip and Robbie are at the door, the latter holding a bottle of red while the former rocks on the balls of his feet, looking part sorry they’re late and part sorry he’s here.

“How’s my favorite blonde?” asks Trip, bringing her in for a hug.

“Awe, don’t let Hunter hear that or you’ll hurt his feeling.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, baby.” He looks around. “Where’s May?”

“With everyone else, dumbass. You’re late.”

“My last client wanted me to time them on the mile,” Trip explains, shrugging his shoulders in a ’what can you do?’ motion.

“How were Sam and Bucky?” she asks.

“Sam’s good and Steve was filling in for Bucky. They seemed fine, though, so I’m sure he is, too.”

Bobbi smiles, wondering if the guy seriously thinks she’s going to believe him. It’s always obvious when he’s worried, has been since she met him in college. Back then they were both med students. Now, he’s part personal trainer, part physical therapist, and part sports doctor.

“And how are you, Robbie?” asks Bobbi, turning her head and raising her voice so the trailing mechanic can hear her.

He sort-of-smirks at her. “Fine.”

Robbie always keeps his leather jacket on, but Trip’s wearing a scarf and coat, so they stop and wait for him to hang those up in the hallway.

Bobbi turns around. “And Gabe?”

As always, Robbie visibly softens at the mention of his brother. “He’s great. We just talked and…”

He continues talking, but it’s mainly things Bobbi’s already heard, one way or another. She lets him continue, however, because Robbie’s like her. They’re both new to this family and its deep-rooted history, constantly surrounded by people who’ve spent the better part of their lives together. Even Trip, who was never formally fostered by Coulson and May, spent a few months here when his mom got sick and his dad was still overseas. And Mack and Elena have known them all since at least high school.

So, she understands when he stops short and goes silent again as they reach the end of the hall. Everyone is excited to see him, of course, and Daisy bounds out of her seat for a hug, but Bobbi knows what it’s like to be the second most-liked in a relationship, especially when the people judging are your all you have for friends _and_ family.

Though, she supposes he has Gabe and Trip, and she’s got Lincoln and Daisy. It’s a beautiful feeling, knowing you’ve got at least a couple people in your corner. Like vindication without having to deal with the anger and disbelief.

As they sit down again, Bobbi turns to Robbie. “What were you saying about Gabe’s biology class?”

Having heard her speak, Daisy turns and smiles like she knows what Bobbi’s thinking. In reality, the blonde doesn’t think her wife has a clue, but she also doesn’t believe it matters. Mind-reading is for superheroes, mad scientists, and really good cashiers.

They’re none of those things.


End file.
